Chicago Peregrine Falcon Blog

I moved to Chicago in July of 1995. For those from Chicago, they recognize that date as the middle of one of the worst heat waves in Chicago’s history.

Sean lived in a tiny apartment with no air conditioning. Experiencing heat and humidity far beyond what I was accustomed to, I was miserable. Hour after hour, I longed to go, as quickly as possible, back to the west, where a humidity of 8% caused gripes and grumbles. But, I toughed it out. A month later, we moved from Sean’s bachelor apartment in Rogers Park to a larger, one bedroom apartment a few blocks away. To beat the heat, we spent a lot of time at a movie theater on Sheridan called The 400, which had air conditioning. We also spent a lot of time in the lake, which was half a block away. A month after that, we adopted Equus and Elijah and the Warehouse, our family, was complete.

I love water. I have always loved water, according to my mother, even in my infancy. Lake Michigan saved me and it saved Chicago for me. My anxieties about being “stuck in the middle of the US,” “stranded in the flat country,” and “fricking landlocked” relaxed a bit as I realized just how “Great” the Great Lakes were. Great, in fact, doesn’t quite capture the lakes. More like “X-Treme Lakes (now with nacho dipping sauce)!”

Over the years, Chicago has become my home. While I do not consider myself a Midwesterner and probably never will – I’ll always be a Westerner at heart – I do consider myself a proud Chicagoan. So many things define Chicago for me. Chicago is architecture, diversity, epic in size, a city of outdoor art, museums, music, beautiful, great food, ethnic neighborhoods, colleges, water, history, politics…I could go on and on.

This year, I added something significant to that list: Chicago is a wild space.

I never considered I’d be watching and studying birds of prey from the top of a 12-story downtown garage. So, I guess I want to say: Thanks Chicago for never ceasing to surprise and amaze me!

Posted in Chicago MCC

Slowly, I catch up with missives burned in my memory, but not in print. I could not believe how life went from wow to WOW!! in about four days time. I guess, such is the life of peregrine – fastest animal in the world, which has translated to Steph – fastest week in the world.

I continue to go over to the garage top every morning even though all the chicks have fledged. It seems very lonely now without Herc and Max constantly swooping in and without chicks jockeying for position on the ledge. But, it is a happy loneliness, as the pattern of life cycle stays well on course.

Some may not know that Sean and I actually live very close to the nest. We live in Printer’s Row, which is about two blocks to the south. Early on, Sean and I discovered that we could actually see a number of Max and Herc’s favorite hunting/roosting spots from the windows of our loft. Very rarely, my friends, does someone monitoring wildlife get such a cushy viewing platform. I guess I’m just lucky that way.

This morning, I lugged myself out of bed and went, as I am wont to do, right to the spotting scope set up in the southern corner or our loft. Immediately, I saw a chick in the middle of the eastern exposure of Dan’s EPA building. Her tail hung over the edge and her wings were relaxed. No worries. My field journal entry:

“6:45am: C. on EPA, C-E. Rel. Lay d. Fine?”

Continue reading ‘A Fairly Calm Day’

Posted in Chicago MCC

I’m going to stop with the “Development Day Count” as thing are pretty much winding down now that all the chicks have fledged!

A short note today before I try to catch up with my work here at the museum. I saw a chick perching on the top of the EPA building early this morning. I would guess it is Wendy. I had a report of another chick on the corner of the CNA Insurance building and I would guess that is either the male or Lesley – my money would be on Lesley, since that’s the area where she was last seen.

The vet still didn’t feel completely comfortable with Beth’s balance this morning, although she felt that Beth would be just fine after some rest, relaxation and rehabilitation in a nice safe place. Mary took her up to SOAR this afternoon where she will be watched and pampered. There is nothing to suggest she won’t make a recovery.

This morning, I found various bird parts on the garage top. One of the parts was the tail and wings of a Yellow-billed Cuckoo, which Mary and I saw cached on the corner of the EPA building when we released Lesley yesterday. It probably blew off. The other stuff seemed fresh.

Back to work for me!! Have a good day, all!

Posted in Chicago MCC

I got up bright and early this morning in order to get to Dr. B.’s office at 8am. The chick (which I decided to ask Mary if we could name “Lesley” and she happily assented) spent a nice quiet night at The Warehouse and seemed fine, still, this morning. I decided not to switch to the smaller carrier, realizing that the action would a.) stress Lesley out needlessly, b.) make it harder for Dr. B. to remove her for her check-up and c.) make it harder for Mary to remove her during release.

Sean asked to snap a few shots before we left and then the three of us were on our way to Dr. B.’s office. Sean stayed with me at the vet until his ride, Brian, came to pick him up for work. With one last look at Lesley, he headed off.

Mary was running a bit late, so Lesley and I sat in the waiting room for a bit and boy, did she get attention. It’s customary, I’ve found, for people waiting in a vet’s waiting room to look at each other’s pets. My carrier, of course, had a covering over it, so people asked what I had. When I responded, “Fledgling falcon,” they were, of course, taken aback. I gave a few quick peeks but mostly tried to keep Lesley covered and quiet. But, what a celebrity she was!

Mary arrived at 8:30am and we joined Dr. B. and his assistant Chris in one of the exam rooms. Dr. B. donned leather gloves and extracted Lesley from the carrier easily. He and Chris looked her over and then, quite kindly, secured a blood sample for the museum DNA bank. Lesley checked out just fine. Mary started the banding process just as my cell phone rang. On the line: EPA Dan.

“Steph! Dan! Preston and I are on LaSalle outside a bank. Another chick is down over here. We’ve got her in a box.”

“Ugh! Is it one of the prison chicks?”

“K/4-something on the leg band?”

“Yep, that’s a prison chick. How does she look?”

“We’re a little worried about her, to be honest! She is laying down and she didn’t struggle as much when we picked her up.”

“Hmmm,” I said, stepping out of the exam room. “Ok. Well, we’re at Dr. B.’s office. The other chick looks fine and we’ll be over your way to release her in, probably, 15 minutes. We’ll take this one from you then and get her checked out. She might just be stunned or dehydrated.”

“Great! Oh, um…” Dan paused and I could hear him talking to someone – in fact, someones. “Hey, yeah. Would you mind talking to this security guard over here? They are a bit … worried about us taking the chick. Can you just explain who we are and that we’re with you guys?”

Sure, I would. Of course. The security guard came on the line a second later and I explained who we were and facts about the program. I also gave her numbers she could call at the museum to verify all the information. Satisfied, she told me that she and her partner had called animal control some time ago and had been protecting the chick ever since. Apparently, a number of people tried to pick her up. I thanked her for being so dilligent and assured her that we were on our way and she could let Dan and Preston go with the chick.

On our way over in the car, I explained the situation to Mary. When we got to the EPA building lobby, Dan and Preston waved. Dan held a file box with holes in the top, which I took from him after we cleared security.

Again, our entourage trouped up to the roof of the EPA building with our two chicks in tow. The crowd stayed back as Mary went far out on the roof to release Lesley. Unlike her sister, Wendy, who had to be extracted from the box with great effort, Lesley virtually flew out of the carrier. Mary backed off quickly and we watched as Lesley sprinted across the roof, finally hiding behind a smoke stack.

In silence, we all waited. After a few moments, Lesley peeked around the smokestack, looking right at us. Kendall snapped the above picture, which is one of my favorite pictures from this season. She promptly disappeared back behind the smokestack.

I felt a tap on my shoulder. Mary motioned to the box holding the other chick and quietly said, “Yeah, we need to get her looked at. Let’s transfer her to the carrier, ok? Really quick and quiet.”

While everyone waited and watched for Lesley’s re-emergence, Mary and I quietly transferred the other chick to the carrier. She squawked and beat her wings during the transfer and I noticed her eyes seemed bright, not dull. That, I decided, was a good sign. She did lay down in the carrier, however, so we knew we needed to get her to the hospital.

Just about then, Lesley came out from behind the smokestack. With a look at the distant crowd that I can only describe as defiant, she opened her wings and assumed her most majestic pose. The crowd signaled appreciation. She held the pose a moment and then took off running.

Since both her sisters had stayed on the roof, I didn’t expect Lesley to jump. We all gasped as she got to the edge of the roof and jumped into the air, wings fully extended. With powerful down strokes, she rose up, flying due east towards the lake. Her form was perfect. She looked like she’d been flying for years. She headed for the CNA Insurance building, about seven blocks to the east of us, a tall, bright red, rectangular skyscraper of about 50-stories.

The thing about the CNA Insurance building – other than its color, it follows a minimalist design. A very typical no-frills, clean-line style skyscraper. Lesley tried to land on a window ledge at about floor 40 and found there really wasn’t one to speak of. She slid away down the building, scrabbling for purchase, and then went out of sight. We could see she was already righting herself to swoop north. The EPA folks were understandably distressed, but Mary assured them that Lesley had more than enough drop distance to easily right herself and was going to be fine. I thought that seemed very reasonable as she didn’t hit the building, but rather tried to land on a ledge that was way too small, in fact, almost non-existent.

We said our goodbyes to the EPA folks, thanked Dan and Preston again, promised we’d give updates on Beth’s condition after we had her checked out and headed to Mary’s car. Mary had other errands after the vet and I had a busy day ahead at the museum, so we parted company. I walked to work, veering off course to check around the CNA Insurance building area. I even went up into a parking garage near there to get a nice bird’s eye view. I guess I’ve developed a love of parking garages now. At any rate, after a very careful search, I didn’t find a thing. Lesley wasn’t down as far as I could determine

Mary had to go up to the Lincoln Park Zoo anyway, so she took Beth there. The vet determined that Beth seemed a bit wobbly, so they put her in a hospital crate and kept her overnight. In the late afternoon, Mary called me. She said the vet had given Beth fluids and that indeed, she was a bit dehydrated. They had also put a perch in Beth’s cage and she’d gotten up on it after an hour or so. She seemed to be perching just fine. Good news! They would continue to monitor Beth and Mary would go over in the morning. If she got the all-clear from the vet, we’d release her. If not, Mary would transfer her to SOAR for a bit longer rehabilitation.

On other fronts, neither of us had gotten any calls regarding downed birds, so we felt sure Lesley was just fine.

After work, I took the long way home and walked the blocks and alleys around the CNA Insurance building. I went up into the garage and did a thorough search of the area from the “sky” but I didn’t see a thing. Good! Really, really good. Go Lesley!

Posted in Chicago MCC

A cell phone rang early this morning and I jumped out of bed expecting a falcon situation. I clicked my cell open and said, “Hello?!?” No one answered and the nagging ring continued. I realized Sean’s cell was ringing and took it to him as he groggily rose from bed.

When he snapped his phone shut, he frowned. “Work emergency. I have to go in. Power outage. Got to turn off the servers so things don’t overheat and then fix the problems when the power comes back on. Don’t know how long I’ll be.”

Fifteen minutes later, he was out the door. I felt bummed to have lost such an important member of Team Falcon, but ate a quick breakfast and got my stuff together in preparation for heading over to the MCC. As I walked out the door, my cell rang. Wendy greeted. She’d checked the chick a couple of times and things seemed fine. In the night, the chick had moved deeper into the machine area and now sat on top of another large machine in an even tighter space.

“Well, shoot.” I said. “If she was going to have a hard time getting out of there from her perch yesterday, she’s going to have an even harder time now.”

Wendy agreed and told me she was going to go home and get some breakfast and take a shower. I said I’d be over at the MCC in 5 minutes to take my watch. As I walked up, 5 minutes later, I saw Wendy leaning against the fence. We chatted for a few minutes and I implored her to go get some food, a nice long bath and maybe even a cat nap. She said she’d see me in a bit and wandered off towards home.

Continue reading ‘Finally Recovered’

Posted in Chicago MCC

Yesterday evening, I checked work email and found a nice note from Preston Kendall. We passed some emails back and forth and decided to meet on the garage roof Saturday (today) morning. As I stepped out the door of our building this morning at 9am, I could already see Preston on top of the garage with his camera out.

When I arrived on the garage roof, Preston greeted me warmly and then pointed excitedly at the roof of a small building to the southeast of the garage.

“I got here at 9:15am and the last chick was gone!” he said. “And then I saw movement and there she was, flapping her wings on that roof!”

So our last little slow chick fledged! She probably did so somewhere between 7:30am, when Sean walked by on his morning walk to the store and saw her on the nest ledge and 9:15am, when Preston arrived and she was on the small building’s roof.

The chick ran from one end of the roof to the other, flapping her wings, lifting off for short periods of time and then balancing precariously on the edge. The small building formed the northern border of a parking lot which was already filling with cars, many of which sported Puerto Rican flags. Crowds piled out of the underground ‘el tunnels on the way to the 41st annual Puerto Rican Parade on Columbus Drive, to our east. Normally, I would have wandered down to see the festivities, but today, we had a chick fledging right in the middle of all the confusion. One of downtown’s few gas stations sits at the southern border of the parking lot and to the south of that, bumper to bumper traffic on 8-laned Congress. In fact, due to the parade, all of the streets surrounding the fledgling were teeming with people and traffic.

“I hope she stays away from the ‘el tracks and the streets,” Preston said. “One year, and you are going to think I was stupid, one of these chicks went down right in the middle of Congress. I ran out there, holding my hands up and waving, hoping I didn’t get hit by a car. I managed to rescue it, though.”

“I don’t think you are stupid at all. Or, rather, if you are, then I am too, because I would have done the same thing,” I assured him.

After 45 minutes, Sean joined us. Max flew in at some point and landed on the building next to his chick. She ran to him and he dropped a bloody hunk of indistinguishable bird, touched her a few times with his beak and then took off again. That was very cool to see.

An hour and a half later, the chick abruptly took flight. Fortunately, Sean saw where she went. I’d come to the garage prepared with towel, leather gloves and a small pet carrier, so I grabbed everything as I ran towards the elevator, Preston hot on my heels. Sean watched the street before running after us, yelling, “Dearborn. Jeez, I think she landed on Dearborn!” Oh man, little girl, not in the street! Not on traffic heavy Dearborn!

We probably looked completely out of our minds as the three of us ran up and down Dearborn, looking under cars, in alleyways, at the base of buildings. Fortunately, our chick wasn’t in the street. Trouble was, she wasn’t anywhere else either. Again, Sean played the role of Quick T. Thinker.

“You guys keep scouring down here. I’m going to buy a fare for the ‘el and go up on the tracks, make sure she didn’t land up there. If she didn’t at least I’ll have a good bird’s eye view.” Great idea!

Unfortunately, in the rush to get to the ground from the roof, I’d thrown my pack and tripod into Preston’s car, with my cell phone inside. So, as Sean tried and tried again to call me, my phone merrily rang and rang in Preston’s car, two blocks away and 12-stories up. Finally, I came into view for Sean and he yelled down at me, furiously pointing at the Monadnock building. I ran down to stand under him.

“She’s up here! She landed on one of these low ledges. She’s right in front of me and is fine!” he yelled down from the ‘el platform.

“Excellent!” I said, running around to take the Exit Only stairs up to where he stood.

The chick stood on a good-sized ledge directly in front of me but up a bit, so maybe on the 3rd story of the Monadnock. Sean came over to stand next to me, leaning against the bars that separated us. “Sometimes I wonder why you own a cell phone,” he remarked dryly.

Preston ran up a few minutes later and we pointed the chick out to him. He grinned and sped up to the garage roof to get his camera.

I realized that the chick was tracking every slight movement Sean and I made, plus watching the traffic below, so I sat down and tried to stay still while I wrote in my field journal. Preston quietly took pictures from the 4th floor of the garage. I wanted all of us to stay as still as possible so that we wouldn’t spook her off of the ledge, a very safe place for her to chill out before trying to fly again.

“Sean,” I said quietly, “you can come down now if you want.”

“Nah,” he said. “I think I’m just going to hang around up here. I’d like to be here just in case she takes off again and flies my way, towards the ‘el tracks.”

“Ah, good idea,” I said. “But, seriously, don’t do anything dangerous, ok? She’ll be okay. If she lands on the tracks, we’ll be able to spook her off without anyone doing anything dangerous.”

No sooner had the word “dangerous” come out of my mouth than two pigeons flew by and landed on the chick’s ledge, about 12 feet from her. Sheesh. Speaking of dangerous behavior!

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” I muttered. “Stupid pigeons! They’re going to get themselves killed! Gah, I can’t look,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut.

“Then, give me the camera,” Sean whispered, holding his hand out. I groaned and slipped the camera to him through the bars, sat down and fixed my attention on recording events in my field journal, sure there was about to be a pigeon tragedy.

The chick seemed completely taken aback by the two pigeons staring at her. I considered the fact that she’d probably never actually seen live prey, or, really, the top half of a bird. I couldn’t imagine what she might be making of this. But, somehow, she connected the pigeons with FOOD and flattened down, staring at them intently. The two pigeons continued to blithely inch towards her. Her head began to bob as she worked on judging the distance – a common pre-dive-for-prey behavior.

“Oh, this is going to go so very Wild Kingdom any moment, isn’t it? This is not going to be good,” I groaned, imagining what a fledgling would do with its first live pigeon.

And still, the lead pigeon kept inching towards her. She waited. The lead pigeon stopped no more than 5 feet away from her. They stared at each other. Suddenly, she took off running for it and both pigeons lazily jumped off the ledge. The chick came to a screeching halt and looked around wildly.

“It’s safe to open your eyes now,” Sean said. “They flew away.”

The two pigeons came back a couple of times and the chick chased them each time, but never caught one. As well, she didn’t fall from the ledge, which was nice. Finally, she started to wander north on the ledge and Sean and I decided that if she was going to ground, she’d land in the street, not on the tracks.

Sean came down and we met with Preston in the garage. Wendy stood with Preston and we greeted her. We all babbled on excitedly about what we’d seen from each of our angles and about the stupid pigeons that almost got themselves killed.

After awhile, Wendy said she had go to meet a group of bird monitors to rescue a bunch of ducklings that had taken up residence in a hotel’s fountain, but would be back later. Preston also had to leave, so I thanked him profusely for helping us look for her on the ground earlier and went with Sean down to the 4th floor.

For the next little while, the chick napped. Then, the train went by. She didn’t seem to like the noise much (good!) and waddled north a bit more. That’s when I noticed there was a dead pigeon laying in an indent in the building, right off the fire escape, around the corner to the north of the falcon chick. I wondered if she’d do anything with the dead pigeon and hoped it hadn’t died of poison or anything. The pigeon moved. It wasn’t even near dead, but laying, very still, on a nest. I groaned again, but watched. Our chick waddled clumsily closer and finally rounded the small outcropping bend that led to the fire escape. She stopped in her tracks and looked at the mother pigeon. The mother pigeon jumped up off her nest and the chick ran for her.

Our fledgling missed the mother pigeon by a mile. “Oh jeez, I hope there aren’t any hatchlings in that nest. She’ll definitely go for hatchlings,” I said to Sean.

Sean looked through the scope and said that he only saw eggs. The fledgling walked over to the nest and began curiously scratching around in it, putting her beak down near the eggs a couple of times. Meanwhile, the mother pigeon had landed south of her, on another outcropping, and was anxiously watching. I thought for sure the falcon would break some eggs, but she just messed up the nest, then wandered over into the corner, out of the hot sun. She ruffled her feathers, groomed for a bit and then closed one eye, napping.

“I’m starving,” Sean announced, looking down at his watch. “I’m going to run home for awhile. Want me to bring you something?”

“Nah. I’ll wrap up here in a bit. She could stay like this until tomorrow morning and the traffic is slowing down. I’ll call you when I’m on my way.”

Sean smooched me goodbye and I returned to watching the chick, who now had both eyes closed. Unfortunately for the mother pigeon, she’d chosen to nap just a few inches away from the nest. That poor pigeon stood up there for hours, watching and waiting to get back to her eggs.

Awhile later, I started packing my things to leave when I heard someone say “Hello!” behind me. I turned and smiled at the man walking towards me. He thrust out his hand. “I’m Tim Cunningham. The one in the Monadnock you talked to last week,” he said, with a wide smile.

What a nice guy! Tim and I stood and talked while gazing over at the chick, who had woken up some time ago and started up the steps of the fire escape. One step. Rest. Flap wings. Another step. Rest. She’d already made a floor. She seemed to be enjoying a wind that had kicked up in the last hour as a storm rolled in and had her wings stretched fully out. How cute.

She lowered and raised her wings a few times then flapped once and was gone again, back south down Plymouth, in the general direction of the nest ledge.

Tim and I blinked at each other. “I gotta go! Nice to meet you!” I yelled, running for the elevator.

I got to the bottom and started running south. A car went by me and pulled to a stop at the southern end of the MCC courtyard, by a small fenced in and locked area that houses some large heating and cooling machinery. Tim got out of the car and waved his hands, pointing wildly at the fence. I reached him a moment later and, of course, she’d landed in the locked area behind the jail and was sitting on the ground. Although I was relieved that she hadn’t landed in the middle of Congress, I realized that the space was probably too tight for her to get any kind of running start in order to get off the ground. She probably would be trapped back there.

“Hmmmm,” I said, pondering the problem.

Tim and I discussed the options, but finally he had to hit the road. He wished me good luck and drove off. “Hmmmm,” I said again.

I decided to go in and speak to the weekend MCC building manager and see if he might let me back there to get the chick. Realizing I was going to need help, I decided to call Sean. Sean didn’t answer, so I called Wendy. She answered by saying, “Look up on the garage!”

I looked up and saw her standing with someone and waving down at me. I grinned and told her what was going on. She said they’d be right down. Minutes later, Wendy and another woman walked towards me across the courtyard. Wendy introduced me to her friend and fellow bird monitor, Lesley, a very nice woman with a beautiful English accent. The three of us puzzled over the problem for a moment and then I went into the prison to ask for access.

The staff of the MCC could not have been more friendly or helpful. After a half hour, the lieutenant in charge came out and assessed the situation. Looking at our beautiful fledgling, he readily agreed to let us go in and try for a capture. Just as we prepared to go, Sean came back down. Wendy and Lesley decided to stay outside the fence, just in case the chick squeezed through the bars and went for the street. Sean and I followed the lieutenant around the building where he gave us access to the locked area and followed us in.

It really dawned on me, right then, that I’d never actually captured a falcon before. Trying to appear accomplished at this sort of thing, I handed Sean the pet carrier, donned the leather gloves and unfolded the large towel. I gave some vague directions of some sort, took a look at the chick, who was maybe 20 feet away, and started creeping towards her, towel held out in front of me.

The wind had really kicked up. It gusted powerfully enough to knock me a few stumbling steps forward as I tried to slowly make my way for the chick. In truly Newbie Falcon Rescuer fashion, I watched the chick carefully, looking straight at her. She, in turn, looked straight at me suspiciously. Over the wind, I heard Wendy yelling something at me, but I couldn’t make it out. Then, I entered a Falcon-catching Zen State. My world narrowed to me and the falcon as I stepped closer and closer and closer.

Later, I found out what Wendy, an actually accomplished bird capturer, had been yelling — directions. For instance, do not stare directly at her. She is a predator and will see that as an aggressive action. Avert your gaze. Try to make yourself smaller by walking towards her sideways. These instructions seemed familiar to me and I realized I’d actually learned all of that when I was studying animal behavior in college. Embarrassing.

Back in the present, finally, I stood about 3 feet from the chick, staring directly into her eyes. Her wings were up, but she stayed put. That is when a gust of wind caught my towel and threw it forward. The chick took wing. In a clownish movement, I threw the towel. It landed on the chick’s back half just as she made for the fence, squeezing herself underneath. I was very worried she’d get stuck and hurt herself. Wendy and Lesley were on the other side, trying to herd her backwards. *POP* went the chick, pulling herself through the fence opening and sprinting past Wendy and Lesley on her way through the courtyard.

Man, did I feel like a doofus. I sighed and took off running for the courtyard to help Wendy and Lesley, with the lieutenant and Sean right behind me.

The chick had taken to the air briefly and was sitting on top of a row of ornamental bushes in the center of the courtyard. Wendy stood to her north, arms held wide and Lesley to her south. I told Sean to take a wide berth around and try to get to the east of the chick. I slowly crept to the west. We had her surrounded. By this time, we also had quite an audience. The four of us slowly closed ranks, but as I brought the towel up, the chick took off again, into the air. She managed an impressive, if a bit unstable, flight, making for the top of the small parking garage to the south of the jail. I thought she was going to make it, but she was a few feet shy and ended up sort of sliding down the wall to land, of course, right back in the locked area.

The nice, and patient, lieutenant offered to let me back there again, but the chick had actually landed on top of one of the approximately 10 foot high machines. As we watched, she wandered around, wings spread, before settling down to groom. She seemed completely content. Since she was up off the ground, I decided she’d be fine. I thanked the lieutenant profusely and he said to come have him paged if she grounded again. Wow! What a lot of help!

I looked at my watch. It was about 5:00pm by then. I told Sean to head home, we’d call him if we needed him. After listening to Lesley and Wendy’s story about Operation Duckling Rescue (which went fine), I realized both women were probably exhausted and told them to head home too. Neither really wanted to go. Lesley elected to stay and keep me company while Wendy went home and got something to eat. We sat in the ever-worsening wind and watched the chick, who had settled in nicely and seemed like she was probably going to roost there. We had a very nice talk until Wendy returned at 6pm. I hadn’t eaten or gone home since 9am that morning, so I decided to pack it in, telling both women that I was fairly sure the chick was going to roost and promising I’d check in the next morning early. They decided to hang around a little while longer. I left them my pet carrier – Just In Case.

So, here I sit. I’ve showered and eaten something. It’s dark outside. Wendy called at dusk to report that the chick seemed fine and was roosting in the same spot. She said she’d check again on her bird rounds at dawn. I said a million thank yous to her and to Lesley.

“Don’t thank me! I had a great time today! Who gets to be that close to a falcon! I’m pumped!”

All the same, I feel full of gratitude. So, thank you Sean, for staying out with me for hours and for coming up with some of the best ideas of the day. Thank you Preston for running up and down Dearborn with me and for watching our chick for hours. Thank you Tim for having a sharp eye and spotting the downed chick. Thank you Lesley and Wendy for helping try to capture her and for staying out for hours on end to make sure she didn’t get into any trouble. Thank you Lieutenant, for being interested and for giving us access to the locked area. And finally, thank you falcon chick, for letting me get as close to you as I did today. You are truly magnificent.

Posted in Chicago MCC

As I rechecked my camera pack in preparation to leave for the garage at 7:30am this morning, my cell phone rang. “Looks like one of the prison chicks went down. A bird monitor picked her up in the alley between the garage and the EPA building very early this morning and has her in a box at her house. Where are you?” Mary Hennen asked, sounding cheery.

“I was just walking out the door on the way to the garage,” I said.

“Great. Go there. We’re meeting the bird monitor, Wendy, on the corner of Clark and LaSalle. We’ll take the chick up to the zoo, have her checked out and release her.”

“Roger-roger,” I said, clicking my phone shut.

I hustled over to the garage and punched “12”, having made arrangements to meet Mary on the roof. Looking over at the nest, I saw only one bird – the last, slow female who took so long to come out in the first place – perched on the ledge. Male fledged on Monday. Female fledged today. Female on the ledge. Hmmm. Say…where’s the other female?

As I mulled that over, Mary pulled up behind me. I threw my stuff in her car and we commenced with mission “Rendezvous Wendy”. Rush hour foot traffic crowded the corner of LaSalle and Clark and Mary and I watched the activity while casually leaning up against the wall of the EPA building.

Wendy showed up maybe ten minutes later carrying a cardboard file box with a bunch of holes punched in the top. We exchanged greetings. Wendy seemed like a genuinely good person from the start as she gave a succinct recitation of our little boxed falcon’s morning, behavior and health, all the while gently cradling the box in her arms. Mary promised we would call as soon as we finished at the vet, took the box and bid farewell.

The vet visit very much resembled our last vet visit, including an all-clear for the chick! Huzzah! Mary called Dan from the EPA to arrange the chicks release from their roof and then Wendy, who was quite happy to hear that the chick was just fine. Mary invited Wendy over to watch the release.

When we arrived at the EPA building lobby, Dan waved at us from behind the security checkpoint. Much confusion ensued as Dan came through security and took the chick in the box around while Mary and I sent our three thousand bags with all sorts of odd tools and items inside through on the x-ray conveyor belt. After explaining some of the items, we finally made it through security and joined Dan, who was standing with a large group of people, including Wendy!

Mary took the chick back from Dan and said, “Do you have a conference room we could use to do the banding?”

We? Banding? I took a quick look around, expecting to see Chris from the USFWS or Matt from the Shedd. No Matt. No Chris. “We” as in me? Wow. Yesterday, someone had a fortune cookie left over from lunch and gave it to me: “Luck will come your way soon. Enjoy every minute.” I intended to! Let’s go, Luck! We’re going to band a chick!

With the chick’s ever-growing entourage in tow, we found the conference room and set up quickly. I tried very hard to look calm, reassuring and as if I’d done this a thousand times. I made a mental note to do everything in my power not to embarrass myself, Mary or the venerable institution where we are both so lucky to work. I handed my camera to one of the very nice people packed into the conference room and showed her how to start the movie.

Mary has done this so many times, a great deal of those times in front of television cameras, other media outlets and crowds, that she seemed super-relaxed. I tried not to think about how many people might be about to witness me doing something stupid. Mary pulled the chick from the box and laid her down on a towel, where I smoothly tucked her wings while putting the towel over her head then hugged my arms in on both sides of her to keep her still and secure. Mary quietly instructed me to hold the base of her legs, which I did. The chick stopped squawking as soon as the towel went over her head, but she still struggled and man, she was strong. I had her bitey bits beneath the towel and secured, but still, I could see she was trying to get her impressive beak near anything that might bleed.

By the by, I really only know all this because I watched the video. I was so overexcited during the actual event, I don’t remember much of it. Watching the video with Sean later that night, he commented that I seemed completely relaxed. I did! Even when the chick somehow Houdini’d her head out from under the towel and latched onto my hand, my camera self just chuckled softly and flicked her hand away quickly before re-securing the head. It was nearly unnoticeable. I thanked myself for not publicly uttering the very colorful epithet that cruised through my mind as I surreptitiously unhooked her beak from the small pinch of skin below my thumb.

And so soon, it was over. I let go of the towel and Mary held a very disgruntled and ruffled Wendy (the bird, of course) up for pictures. Afterward, the entourage, totaling I couldn’t even guess how many people, followed Dan down the hall to the service elevator where the building manager waited. We rode to the roof access floor stuffed together uncomfortably, but arrived quickly. The view was incredible. Mary and I scouted the perimeters and the air for any angry parents and then Mary took MCC Wendy away from the crowd and extracted her from the carrier before backing quickly away to rejoin the human crowd.

Wendy seemed disoriented for about one minute then calmed. She ruffled her feathers indignantly and shook her foot before spreading her wings to flap-hop-flap a few feet across the roof. She scored a round of “awwwwwwww”s from the crowd when she diligently used her impressive beak to try to pry her new leg bands off of her leg.

At long last, the time came to leave Wendy (falcon) in peace. Mary, Wendy (human) and I exchanged ‘thanks’ and ‘goodbyes’ with Dan & co. and headed on down to the lobby. As we prepared to part company, Wendy asked if either Mary or I could stop by her place and pick up some dead birds she’d found and stored for the museum. I volunteered and took off with Wendy while Mary went in to the museum.

Wendy lived a few blocks away (in fact, about 3 blocks from where I live) in a very cool turn-of-the-century building. Formerly, the building housed offices and years ago, renovators retained this look by using all the original glass doors – complete with the stenciled business names and addresses – as the fronts for the residential doors. I felt like I’d just walked in to a Bogart & Bacall film noir. Very, very cool. As Wendy retrieved the “birdcicles” from her freezer, I skritched her two cute cats and we chatted about the rescue.

Hopefully, Wendy will send me the story in her own words, but in a nutshell, here is what happened. As a bird monitor, Wendy goes out every morning at the crack of dawn to patrol the streets and alleyways for two blocks around her house. As she walked down the narrow alleyway between the garage and the EPA building (the same alleyway I was in when I retrieved the bat long ago), she saw a form huddled near the wall. Delivery trucks were already starting to pull down the alleyway and Wendy stopped progress while she assessed the situation. Realizing that it was a falcon, probably a baby, she knew she wasn’t going to have time to run home and get a pet carrier. So, she took off her jacket, threw it over the chick and picked her up with her bare hands, deftly keeping out of the way of talons and beak. With the baby falcon biting and struggling in hand her arms, Wendy hurried home as fast as she could. When she got to her elevator, she struggled to retrieve her elevator key from her pocket and the chick’s wings got free – wings which span about 3 feet. I’m not sure how Wendy managed to do all of this, but was even more impressed to find out she did it without heavy leather gloves.

I silently promised myself that I’d do everything I could so that K/40’s name would be “Wendy” (and, as it turned out, I was able to do so). I congratulated Wendy the rescuer, thanked her again profusely and promised to keep in touch. Little did I know, I’d be calling her back the very next day.

As I walked to the bus stop, my cell rang again. “Steph? Mary. Where are you?”

“I am almost at the bus stop on State, headed into the museum,” I responded.

“Your Dr. B.? Your vet? He has another downed chick. Meet me there.”

Dr. B. is Dr. J.B. Bruederle of the Burnham Park Animal Hospital in the South Loop. Our cats started going to Dr. B. when we moved to the south loop in 1998. I’d never have taken them to anyone else. Dr. B. is a phenomenal vet and also a friend. So, I felt pretty tickled he had one of our chicks.

I briskly walked the 6 blocks south from the State street bus stop to Burnham Park Animal Hospital, beating Mary. The last time I’d seen Dr. B., it had been a sad day for all of us. When I showed up out of the blue that morning, Dr. B. blinked at me in confusion, trying, I’m sure, to figure out why I was there. After I cleared things up, he took me back to see the second falcon chick. She glared out at me from inside a large dog carrier, but seemed, by first glance, just fine and dandy. Dr. B. concurred and we discussed falcons while waiting for Mary.

When Mary got there, Dr. B. generously loaned us an exam room and he and an assistant took a look at the chick before we banded her. Beth the falcon (named, by the by, for Dr. B.’s wife Beth) checked out fine! We banded her and called Dan. Same song, second verse as we let Beth out on the roof. She stalked around, perking when her sister Wendy, who was perched on the north-east side of the building, let out a piercing cry. As we left, I peeked around the corner to see Beth hop-flapping over towards her sister.

It amazes me how many people band together during situations such as these. Although humans can be an absolute menace to the animal world, both of these chicks have many kind-hearted souls to thank for their health and welfare. And I am thankful I have so many new, kind-hearted, friends.

Tonight, as the last of the sunlight slips from the sky, I can see the sisters on top of the EPA building. Well, really just their silhouettes, but my spotting scope lends some nice detail. They are sitting so close together, they look like one fat bird with two heads. One of the chicks has just started grooming the feathers on the back of the other chick’s neck. By the fluffy shape of the shadow, I can see that they are fluffed out and sitting down on their feet in typical roosting position. Sleep well, girls!

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